


He's The One

by Buildyourwalls



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Hongjoong is a good Leader, M/M, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Pining, Soft Kim Hongjoong, Soft Park Seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buildyourwalls/pseuds/Buildyourwalls
Summary: Seonghwa is completely in love with Hongjoong and he doesn't know what to do about it.See also: Me writing soft boys being soft for each other.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141





	He's The One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TacoChelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TacoChelle/gifts).



> Thanks to **Tacochelle** for the endless content and great zoom calls. I know this isn't your OTP but I appreciate you love me for writing them anyway. 
> 
> This story is set during the Zero: Fever Part 1 promotional time. I just really like writing Seonghwa and Hongjoong being sweet husbands together. Any mistakes on this are entirely my own. 
> 
> The title a play on the title track of the album. The beginning quote I found on Pinterest (couldn't find the original writer)

**When your eyes met mine,**  
**My soul pointed at you and whispered to my heart,**  
**_Him…_ **

“Do you think Atiny will love it?” Hongjoong asks Seonghwa after they’re finished wrapping up the music video for their new comeback. He sounds breathless, and his eyes are wide with worry.

Seonghwa wants to laugh and say, _don’t be ridiculous_ , but he feels the same thrum of unease, a twist of concern in his stomach. He reaches out, wraps his hand around Hongjoong’s wrist and says, “They’re going to love it. They’ll love it because we love it.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders relax more, and he nods, shifting uncomfortably in his costume. “It feels weird without Mingi.”

Seonghwa reaches out and grips for Hongjoong's shoulder. “I know. But he’s still with us. He’ll still want us to do this.”

“Right,” Hongjoong says under his breath like he’s talking to himself, “That’s right.”

They head back to the dorm, and Seonghwa darts a glance around the van and sees everyone’s asleep. Everyone except for Hongjoong.

Hongjoong’s knee presses into Seonghwa’s thigh, his fingers tapping against his other knee. Seonghwa wants to reach out, to clasp their hands together, wants to pull Hongjoong close to him, and whisper reassurance to help vanish his fears.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans his head against the window of the van and closes his eyes. He tries to ignore the heat of Hongjoong’s body, tries to think about anything else—the practice they have to get up early for tomorrow, the way he will hit the alarm five times.

But then he’s reminded about how Hongjoong will poke at Seonghwa until he opens his eyes, his sleepy smile greeting Seonghwa’s day as he says, “Time to get up, hyung.”

With a sigh, Seonghwa opens his eyes and watches the city rush by him. He doesn’t look at Hongjoong again.

*

Seonghwa isn’t a big dreamer. He gets them every so often but usually can’t remember by the time morning comes. Lately, when he dreams, it’s about Hongjoong.

He dreams about Hongjoong’s smile shining in bright afternoon sunshine, under a clear sky. He dreams about Hongjoong’s laughter, light and sweet. He dreams of Hongjoong’s lips pressed against his, beautiful and perfect.

Seonghwa wakes up with a jolt, his body trembling. His skin feels clammy and hot, and his pajama pants are tightly uncomfortable. He reaches for the blanket twisted around his hips, and pulls it up to his chin, clutching tight.

The day is awakening, pale light peeking through the window of the bedroom, streaks of dandelion and tangerine pooling onto the carpet.

He covers his face and resists the urge to scream. He can’t lose focus, not when they’re planning so much for this comeback.

Not when so much is on the line.

Hongjoong’s phone alarm goes off and he groans, the bunk bed squeaking under his weight. Seongwha hears Hongjoong scramble for the phone before turning the alarm off, muttering a curse under his breath.

He rolls out of the bottom bunk, careful of his steps. His hand rests on Seonghwa's mattress when he looks over, the sly smile on his face fading when he sees Seonghwa’s awake.

“Oh,” Hongjoong says, and blinks. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” Seonghwa says, clutching onto his blanket a little harder. Honjoong’s silvery hair is an utter mess, and his cheek has a sleep line in it. Seonghwa thinks about what it would feel like to lean up and kiss Hongjoong, how he’d taste in the morning. Which is probably pretty gross, but Seonghwa really, really wants to experience it.

Hongjoong taps a hand on his mattress and says, “Right, I’m gonna get the bathroom first if that’s okay.”

Seonghwa nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Hongjoong disappears out of the bedroom, and Seonghwa turns over onto his stomach, and groans into his pillows.

He’s totally doomed.

*

Seonghwa tries not to stare. But it’s hard when Hongjoong’s eyes are closed and he’s moaning over the breakfast sandwich KQ ordered while they all sit in a meeting going over what is going to happen for promotion for this comeback.

He should pay attention. They’re in the middle of a global pandemic, they’re down a member and Atiny is out there, waiting for them, desperate to see them in the flesh but they can’t. And it’s heartbreaking, and on any other day Seonghwa would think about all of it, but right now…

Right now Kim Hongjoong is making the most obscene noises over a sandwich, and Seonghwa wants to die.

How can he not look at Hongjoong as he flicks the tip of his pink tongue over his bottom lip, gliding a trail to the corner of his mouth. There’s a tiny crumb still on his chin, and Seonghwa does everything he can not to get out of his chair and walk over and brush it off. Because as much as he wants to claim it’s because of his somewhat OCD tendencies, it's not. it’s because his entire body is itching for an excuse to touch Hongjoong.

Seonghwa spreads his hand on the table and takes a deep breath. Hongjoong laughs and runs a hand through his hair, laughing at something Wooyoung’s yelling about. The silver strands fall over his forehead, feathers around his temples, and Seongwha’s throat tightens.

He tears his gaze away.

Only to find San looking right at him.

 _Oh shit_ , Seonghwa thinks.

San’s eyebrow raises just slightly, a barely there question, and Seonghwa’s whole heart jumps into his throat, beating violently against his voice box. He parts his lips to speak, but then the doors open and the managers and other business people are stepping inside, all suits and serious faces.

Seonghwa has never felt so relieved before in his life.

*

San says nothing for the rest of the day. Not when Seonghwa is in charge of dinner duties, not after he’s cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, not even when everyone else heads to bed because they’ve spent several hours in meetings and are drained.

He catches him right after Seonghwa exits the bathroom, running a towel over his hair, his T-shirt draped over his arm.

“Hyung,” San says in a quiet voice. “Can we talk?”

There’s a rush of dread that courses through Seonghwa’s veins, icy and cutting. It makes his chest constrict, and his lungs burn with every breath he takes.

“Sure. Can I get dressed first?” Seonghwa asks, hoping San doesn’t catch the way his voice wobbles.

San wraps his arms around his stomach and nods, looking down at the floor. “Of course, hyung.”

Hongjoong isn’t in the bedroom. He’s off at the studio, working on a song he’s been trying to perfect for a while now. When Hongjoong gets stuck like this, he ends up back at the dorm late, long after Seonghwa has gone to bed and waited for him, waited to hear him shuffle inside their room and drop his backpack and put his laptop on the desk they both share. 

Seonghwa folds his towel and places it on his bed, then slips into his T-shirt. He runs a hand through his damp hair and tilts his head to the ceiling for a moment before bracing himself. 

San’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the television turned down. Seonghwa doesn’t even see what’s playing on the screen as he settles down onto the couch on the opposite end. The roar in his ears is as loud as New York City traffic, all sirens and screams, and a lot of static in between. He tries to act calm, but his stomach is doing some impressive backflips and he feels lightheaded.

“Hyung,” San asks softly. It sounds strange because usually San’s voice fills up a room second to Wooyoung and Mingi, and right now it sounds small, so small, and it makes Seonghwa swallow hard around the lump that has made resistance in his throat. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says. His mouth is dry and his throat feels raw, like it does after a good show.

He’s so out of his element, here. He’s used to being the one to ask these kinds of questions to the group, the one who is their caregiver, their sympathetic ear. How many times over the years had he held them, let them cry, placed a hand on their shoulder and promised it would be okay? Too many to count. And here's San, looking at him, his profile still sharp in Seonghwa’s periphery, waiting. 

How can Seonghwa explain what’s happening to him when Seonghwa doesn’t even have the words to say? He’s floundering, stumbling over himself like a tiny toddler who’s getting the hang of running, and he hates it so much. It makes him want to scrub the bathroom down with bleach until his eyes sting from the harsh chemical, but he won’t. He’ll just sit here and grip at his knees, searching through his mind for a proper answer.

A warm hand rests on top of Seonghwa’s hand. He follows the path up from fingertip to shoulder, and then to San’s face, where he’s looking at Seonghwa with a sadness in his eyes that makes Seonghwa’s heart break.

“Does he know?” San asks and there it is, out in the open. Seonghwa’s mind comes up with excuses, tries to figure out a way to lie, and says he doesn’t know what San is talking about. San raises his eyebrows, his eyes so sincere, Seonghwa’s shoulders slump and he shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t think anyone did. Guess I’m not that good at hiding, huh?” Seonghwa says, heavy with bitterness. He darts a glance to San. “Do you think the others suspect anything?”

“I don’t think so,” San says. “I mean, we joke about things here and there, but it’s always been in good fun.” 

Seonghwa groans. “It’s so stupid. It’s reckless. If anyone finds out—You can’t say anything, okay? Promise me?”

“Of course not,” San says with ease. “But why don’t you want the others to know? Do you think they’ll tell him?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “It’s wrong, that’s why.”

“No,” San says, his voice firm. “There’s nothing wrong with any of it. Especially when it concerns your heart.”

Seonghwa covers his face with his hands to hide what those words mean to him, what they do to him. His nose tickles when the tears flow, thick and damp. San says nothing. He rests his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, and drapes his arm over his middle, and squeezes. Seonghwa continues to cry, his palms catching his tears.

*

Hongjoong comes back to the dorm, and this time Seonghwa isn’t asleep. He’s lying on the bottom bunk, staring at the mattress above him, his palms pillowing his head. The bedroom door creaks open, and Seonghwa doesn’t turn at the familiar sound. His eyes weave a path around the slats of the bunk bed repeatedly, trying to ease the disquiet in his brain.

He’s feeling drained from earlier, but also lighter. It helps to not be alone in any of this. To not have to carry the secret around. San pulled Seonghwa into a tight hug, swearing he wouldn’t say anything to anyone, as if Seonghwa expected anything different.

“You’re awake,” Hongjoong says. He sounds surprised. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa says, turning toward Hongjoong’s low voice.

Hongjoong steps inside, takes off his backpack and sets his laptop on the desk as he always does. He walks toward the bed and squats down onto the floor. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to the kids?”

Seonghwa smirks at the nickname. When the group took to calling Hongjoong and Seonghwa the parents of the group, they adopted the endearment of their children. No one seemed to mind it at all. Seonghwa can’t remember a time when his heart didn’t pick up the pace when someone would call him and Hongjoong husbands, or when his cheeks would grow hot at the thought of what real partners in a relationship did with each other in their own bedrooms.

But now it’s always there, an ever-present reminder, and it’s there again in Hongjoong’s pretty hair, and his pretty brown eyes.

“No, nothing happened to the kids,” Seonghwa says, ripping his gaze away to look back up at the mattress. “We all got to do a video chat with Mingi. He’s doing okay. Still down, but he’s pulling through.”

“Shit, I missed it,” Hongjoong says, with a frown.

“He understood,” Seonghwa says back. “Wooyoung kept interrupting everyone, so it’s not like you missed much of anything.”

Hongjoong laughs and sets his hand on the underside of Seonghwa’s biceps, and Seonghwa has to bite into his cheek hard to stave off a shiver. Hongjoong’s hand is soft, and the pad of his thumb roves over Seonghwa’s skin lazily.

Seonghwa’s entire body is on fire. He closes his eyes and inhales slowly, stretching his diaphragm to stop himself from making an utter fool out of himself. Hongjoong’s hand still rests on Seonghwa’s arm, and Seongwha wants it everywhere, all over his body, and a lasso of desire loops around Seonghwa’s middle, and cinches.

“I know I’m not good at being there for you,” Hongjoong says, his tone heavy with chagrin. “But I’m so thankful for everything you do. You’re a wonderful friend to the guys. You listen to them and reassure them. You do so much for them.” He pauses, his hand still resting on Seonghwa’s arm.

Seonghwa turns to Hongjoong and finds that he’s looking at him intensely. “You do so much for them... And for me, too.”

Seonghwa’s mother will tell anyone how Seonghwa has always been the careful type. The caring type. The one who will stop everything to help a bird with a broken wing. She often says with heavy affection, that he’s the one who wants to stand up and do over being looked after.

But now Hongjoong’s dark eyes are penetrating Seonghwa, sending a tremor inside of him that’s so great he feels like he’s splitting in half.

Seonghwa has the intense urge to kiss Hongjoong.

“I—” Seonghwa says, his voice cracking at the end. He feels so exposed, like his heart is bleeding out from his chest and onto his mattress.

Then Hongjoong pulls his hand away and brushes back some of Seonghwa hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to say thank you.”

He’s gone so fast after that, that Seonghwa forgets to blink until his eyes burn. Hongjoong grabs some of his clothes from his dresser and heads out of the bedroom. Seonghwa finally takes a full breath, and looks up at the mattress above him, his eyes wide, his heart a jackhammer in his chest.

His forehead still burns from Hongjoong’s touch.

*

The first time Seonghwa kissed a girl was in his last year of high school. It was messy and wet, too much tongue and not enough finesse. He felt embarrassed later, worrying he’d messed up. But the girl still stole glances at him in class the next day, and the thrill of what they shared was a heady rush of excitement.

The first time Seonghwa kissed a boy was much, much, different.

It happened before he tried out to be an idol. It was a friend of a friend, and they were hanging out near the beach, watching the sunset. Everyone had gone home, and they were talking about their future, and the boy was so charming, and so alluring. His smile was gorgeous, and his laugh more brilliant than the sun’s glittery reflection on the ocean. Seonghwa found the boy intoxicating, and emboldened by the flutter in his chest, he leaned over and kissed him.

The boy had looked shocked at first, and Seonghwa half expected to a punch in the face. He didn’t punch Seonghwa in the face. Instead, he leaned over and kissed Seonghwa away, slow and sinful, and that kiss had sparked something bigger inside of Seonghwa, a thrill that echoed into his skull, a giddiness that had him floating on a euphoric high for days.

Seonghwa had no clue he liked guys until that very moment, with sand on his feet, and the crash of the waves in his ears. That kiss branded itself into Seonghwa forever. And as hot and amazing as it was, Seonghwa couldn’t lose sight of his aspirations of performance. He never spoke to that boy again, and instead of thinking further on what that kiss meant to him, he forced himself to tuck the moment into a dark recess of his mind, pushed it into a shadowed corner where no one could discover it.

He never thought about what he felt when he kissed a boy until Hongjoong came into his life. Hongjoong with his smile, and his talent, and his ability to rap so well made goosebumps rise on Seonghwa’s skin. He watched Hongjoong dance and thought, _this guy is gonna go somewhere, and I want to be there with him when he does._

When Hongjoong said he wouldn’t lead a group without Seonghwa, Seonghwa’s knees felt weak.

Which is how they feel right now, in the dance studio, watching Hongjoong try to work out another choreo.

“You’re doing it again,” San murmurs, bumping shoulders with Seonghwa. When Seonghwa snaps his head to him, he gives a small smile. “You’re staring. I figured you didn’t want anyone else to notice.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, gazing down at his shoes. He leans over and picks up his water bottle, unscrews it and guzzles half its contents.

The sound of tennis shoes squeak against the bamboo paneled floor, the bass of the beat so intense it makes Seonghwa’s teeth rattle. Usually he loves it, but at this moment he feels like he’s crawling out of his skin.

“I need some fresh air,” Seonghwa says, and exits the practice space. He slumps against the wall, bending over with his hands on his knees, his head hanging. Breathing becomes harder, and Seonghwa gasps for more air, his vision swimming. His chest clenches and he shakes his head at the telltale signs of a panic attack.

 _This isn’t happening,_ he thinks to himself. _This can’t be happening._

The music starts up again, the rumble of bass vibrating against his ass. He spreads a hand over his chest, tries to take a calming breath, and then the door opens, a loud burst of noise. Seonghwa almost says that he’ll be there in a minute, when he hears a familiar murmur and then Hongjoong’s squatting in front of him. Seonghwa doesn’t see Hongjoong’s face, but he can see the sweats he’s wearing, see the way his knees are bent. 

“Hyung?” Hongjoong says, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa says through clenched teeth. But he’s not fine. He feels like someone is squeezing his internal organs. He waves a hand and says, “You can go back in, I’ll be there soon.”

“No.”

Seonghwa’s neck snaps up, and he’s filled with Hongjoong’s wide eyes, and his damp hair smashed against his temples. He shakes his head and says, “No. I’m not leaving you.” 

“But—” 

Hongjoong settles onto the floor, crossing his legs. “Sit with me,” he says, with encouragement. Seonghwa does, resting the back of his head against the wall. Hongjoong reaches out and grabs one of Seonghwa’s hands and clasps it between his own. “Okay, so close your eyes and listen to me. Good. I want you to take a deep breath in, and then carefully release that breath. Keep doing that until you feel better.”

It takes a few tries, but with the warmth of Hongjoong’s hand against his own, Seonghwa feels better. The vibration in Seonghwa’s bones fades, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Hongjoong’s soft smile.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa says hoarsely and licks his lips. 

Hongjoong’s eyes flicker to Seonghwa’s mouth for a moment, his eyes growing half-lidded. Seonghwa’s breath catches. Hongjoong clears his throat and pats Seonghwa’s hand, pulling himself up in a swift motion. “No problem. Let’s get back inside so we can finish practice, yeah?”

And then he’s gone, leaving Seonghwa’s world spinning, but in another way.

*

Seonghwa takes it upon himself to put distance between him and Hongjoong.

Nothing big, really. Just... not spending as much time with him. Not trying to stay up when Hongjoong is at the studio. He doesn’t always answer the phone when Hongjoong calls, when Seonghwa isn’t at the dorm.

He makes it a point that they never sit next to each other in the van on the way back to the dorms after meetings or rehearsal, and when he goes out for dinner with Wooyoung and San, he doesn’t bother texting Hongjoong where they are. These small things Seonghwa does because somehow when he looks back on his relationship with Hongjoong, he realizes the group was right.

They are like husbands.

Seonghwa always blushed when they talked about it like that because he didn’t believe that to be really true. But the way Hongjoong looked at him while he helped Seonghwa through his panic attack, the way Seonghwa’s stomach fluttered happily when they went back to practice...it was like a door opening into a new hall of reality.

Because later that night, after he got the last shower and slipped into bed, staring at the mattress above him, he realized something that was scary as hell.

He was in love with Hongjoong.

Seonghwa can’t get that revelation out of his head, even as he picks at a bowl of Jjajangmyeon while having dinner with the guys at Wooyoung’s favorite restaurant. Hongjoong is at the studio working late, as usual, and everyone is talking and giggling in the private room of the restaurant, but nothing can cover up the roar in Seonghwa’s ears.

“Hyung, are you going to eat that?” Wooyoung asks, reaching over and grabbing a bit of Seonghwa’s food from his plate. San smacks Wooyoung’s wrist and Wooyoung looks at San, utterly scandalized. “What? He wasn’t eating it!”

“Don’t disrespect your elders,” San says, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes and eats the kimchi. Seonghwa pushes his plate closer to him and Wooyoung smiles in triumph.

“If you keep giving into him you’ll spoil him,” San says, resting his chin in his hand.

“That’s because Seonghwa loves me most,” Wooyoung says. “I’m the favorite.”

“That is not true,” Yeosan says. “He only indulges you so you’ll shut up.”

Wooyoung lets out a high pitched noise as everyone else laughs. Wooyoung gets louder as he demands that Seonghwa set the record straight.

Seonghwa, who’s been drawing random patterns onto the table top, looks up when someone says his name. “What?”

“Tell them I’m your favorite,” Wooyoung says. “Right now.”

Seonghwa blinks owlishly and says, “All of you hold a special place in my heart, therefore I could never pick a favorite.”

The rest of the group breaks out into loud laughter at Wooyoung’s wide eyes and dropped jaw. San hooks an arm around Wooyoung’s neck and announces, “Don’t worry, Woo. You’ll always be my favorite.”

That seems to pacify Wooyoung enough. Later, when everyone orders dessert, San pushes an order of bingsu to him and whispers, “You looked like you needed something to make you smile, hyung.”

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. He takes the spoon San offers and digs in.

*

Seonghwa keeps the distance thing up for a while. Sometimes he and Hongjoong cross each other’s path, but Seonghwa always makes sure that there are other members around, always keeps the conversation short.

Then one night Seonghwa is lying in bed, with his earbuds in his ears, relaxing after a long day of practice. He figures Hongjoong would head to his own studio afterwards instead of coming back to the dorm, and Seonghwa tells himself that it’s okay. That’s the best way to go about this, that until he knows how to handle the release of butterflies inside of his entire body whenever Hongjoong shares space with him, he’s doing what’s best for himself.

For their group.

For their careers.

He’s almost asleep when a hand settles onto his chest and shakes him. Hard. Seonghwa jolts, his eyes snapping open to find Hongjoong staring at him with what looks like utter panic.  
Seonghwa rips one of his earbuds out and sits up. “Did something happened?” he asks, panic edging his voice.

Honjoong’s eyes are shiny and his grip on Seonghwa’s arm grows tighter. “Yes.”

A shiver of dread flows through Seonghwa, leaving him shaky and nauseated. He gets up out of his bed and grips onto Hongjoong’s shoulders. “What happened? Is it Mingi? The kids?”

A list of disasters runs through Seonghwa, crashing into him like a freight train. Hongjoong’s lips turn down and he shakes his head sharply. When he speaks, his voice is soft and shaky.  
“You’ve been avoiding me.”

A new sense of icy dread rushes through Seonghwa’s veins. His knees wobble a little, and he releases his hold on to Hongjoong. He wraps his arms around his waist and stares down at the carpet.

“You’ve been busy,” Seonghwa says in a quiet voice. He winces at how pathetic he sounds, at how weak the excuse is.

Hongjoong doesn’t speak for a while. The silence is painful, a physical element that builds until it wraps around Seonghwa’s chest like a boa constrictor.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hongjoong asks.

Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the too bright light in the bedroom. His mind screams _you’re too beautiful to do anything truly wrong_ and then his heart breaks with anguish because those are the type of words you say to someone you care for, deeper than any friendship. Those are the type words which translate to _I love you_ , who stretch out like a field of blooming flowers in the spring, when the world is ripe with beauty and birth.

“It’s not—” Seonghwa says, the words stalling on the tip of his tongue. His arms feel heavy and they fall to the side, and Seonghwa curls his hands into fists. “It’s not you. It’s me.”  
Hongjoong takes a step closer, and Seonghwa has to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from making a terrible mistake. Hongjoong is wearing his usual cologne, the one that smells fresh and of the sea, and Seonghwa feels dizzy.

“Talk to me, hyung,” Hongjoong whispers. His voice is soft and melodic, and it makes Seonghwa shiver. “I want to be here for you.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “I can’t,” he rasps. “It’s a mistake.”

Hongjoong’s hand rests on Seonghwa’s arm, wraps around his bicep and gives it a gentle squeeze. It imprints itself into Seonghwa’s skin, digs deep and burns into his blood. Breathing is hard. Seonghwa opens and closes his mouth several times, and his throat is tight, like it’s closing up.

His eyes burn and his nose tickles, and Seonghwa is going to cry. God, he hates crying. The only time Seonghwa didn’t hate it was the time the group stood on stage and won their first award for Wave. His entire body felt like it was beaming, so bright that it lit up the sky.

But he doesn’t feel like that now. Right now he feels like he’s being eclipsed in shadow. Seonghwa digs the heel of his hand into his eyes and chokes out the words, “You’ll hate me.”

Hongjoong’s hand tightens on Seonghwa’s arm. “No.” 

Seonghwa looks up at Hongjoong through his lashes. “What?” 

Hongjoong’s hand slides up Seonghwa’s arm, and to his shoulder. His thumb brushes over Seonghwa’s collarbone, a feather light touch, and Seonghwa swallows hard. Hongjoong’s eyes stay focused on his hand, before carefully roving up to meet Seonghwa’s eyes.

“I could never hate you,” Hongjoong whispers. Seonghwa licks his dry lips, and Hongjoong’s eyes focus on Seonghwa’s mouth, his lips parting as he breathes out a shaky breath.

If this was anyone else, anywhere else, Seonghwa would be risky and lean in to brush his lips over Hongjoong’s lips. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands where he’s at. He peers down as he lifts his hand and places it on Hongjoong’s hip. There’s a sharp inhale of breath, and when Seonghwa connects his gaze with Hongjoong’s again, what he sees has him nearly throwing caution to the wind.

Hongjoong’s eyes are lidded, his cheeks tinged with pink. He’s caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and when he gradually releases it, it’s reddened and wet. Seonghwa moves his hand up along Hongjoong’s hip and over his ribs. Hongjoong takes another step closer.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his eyes searching over Seonghwa’s face. “I thought—I thought…” 

Seonghwa brushes his hand over Hongjoong’s ribs and slides it to his back. He’s feeling lightheaded, and his heart is pounding so hard, the blood is rushing in his ears. When he speaks, his voice is husky and low. “You thought?”

Hongjoong takes another step closer. There’s only a small bit of space between them, Hongjoong’s body heat radiating and Seonghwa wants him closer, wants to flush their bodies together. He wants to brush his hands through Honjoong’s hair, touch the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Instead, he waits.

Hongjoong says, “Well, I mean—”

And then the door bursts open, and Hongjoong vanishes, vanished from Seonghwa’s loose hold. Wooyoung’s scream fills the air, and Seonghwa hears nothing over the jackhammer of his heart drumming into his ears. He sits down on the edge of the bed, gripping onto the mattress with his hands to stop them from shaking.

“And then—” Wooyoung stops and looks between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “Wait, did I interrupt something?”

“Not particularly,” Hongjoong says, slumping onto the edge of the dresser and running a hand through his hair. Wooyoung tilts his head and flits his gaze back and forth between them, and Seonghwa’s entire face is as hot as the summer sun.

“Right,” Wooyoung says, stretching the word out. He leans out of the doorway and yells, “Sannnnn, mom and dad are being weird!”

San yells something back about leaving them alone and Wooyoung slants a mischievous grin before closing the door. Hongjoong pushes off the dresser and says, “I’m going to take a shower.”

He grabs his things out of his dresser drawer, including his toiletry bag. Seonghwa’s brain is screaming _mistake, it was all a fucking mistake!_ until Hongjoong stands in front of him and brushes the back of his knuckle over the side of his face.

“Talk to me next time, okay?” Hongjoong murmurs. Seonghwa nods and Hongjoong’s mouth tilts on the side. “We’re in this together, right?”

“Right,” Seonghwa whispers. Hongjoong leaves and Seonghwa sinks back into his bed, his hand spreading over his head.

Somehow, in the last ten minutes, Seonghwa’s life has done a 180, and he’s unsure what to think about it.

Wow.

*

Things get better. The tension that was filling the space between Seonghwa and Hongjoong vanishes, but in its place comes something new.

Hongjoong grows more touchy. He brushes his fingertips over Seonghwa’s arm more, leans into his side and wraps an arm around his waist. He winks when he catches Seonghwa looking at him, and Seonghwa’s belly fills with a newfound warmth.

Seonghwa doesn’t know how to handle it, sometimes feeling flush all over, his fingertips tingling. Sometimes the dark whispers in his brain warn him that this could all vanish if the higher ups find out, that despite everyone in the group is caring, gracious, and absolute best friends, it doesn’t mean that they’re going to be okay with the eldest and leader of their group…

...Well, doing whatever they’re doing.

Seonghwa makes San walk with him at the dorm’s walking path right after dinner one night, the bitter wintery cold biting into his skin. They say nothing for a long time, their breath making big puffy white misty clouds from their breathing.

“What’s going on, hyung?” San asks, hunching his shoulders up to his ears.

Seonghwa stops and looks up at the sky. It’s streaked in a deep cerulean, feathery white clouds stroking along its surface. “He knows,” Seonghwa whispers. Above them a flock of black birds create a v-formation, and he watches their path until the buildings obscure their journey.

“I figured.”

Seonghwa looks to San, his eyes wide. “Does anyone else?”

San quirks an eyebrow. “Does that matter?”

Seonghwa lifts his arms up and looks at San like he’s insane. “Of course it matters! Are you crazy?”

San laughs and shakes his head. “Woo suspects. It seems you guys looked freaked out, like you got caught naked together.”

Seonghwa feels like he just swallowed his tongue. “We did not!”

“Okay, so how _were_ you looking then?”

Seonghwa crosses his arms over his chest and ducks his head. “Not naked?” 

San’s arms wrap around Seonghwa in a tight hug. Seonghwa slumps into the embrace, his chin resting on San’s shoulder. His jacket is cold on Seonghwa’s skin, and he closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Hyung, I don’t think you need to worry about everyone else. They’re thrilled to see either of you happy. And that’s good, right?”

“We can’t let anyone know,” Seonghwa says, shaking his head. He feels the sharpness of tears stinging his eyes. “We’re not just normal people, we’re _idols_. I don’t want to cause issues with the group, I don’t want to risk everything.”

San’s arms grow tighter. “We won’t let that happen, okay?” He pulls back and his eyes look a little shiny in the gloaming. “I promise.”

Seonghwa dashes his hands over his eyes and nods, looking down at the sidewalk. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we go back inside? I’m freezing.”

Seonghwa pushes San toward the building. “Okay, let’s go.”

The guys are all gathered around in the living room talking to Mingi on the computer. His face lights up when he sees San, who gets loud with Wooyoung in excitement. Seonghwa takes off his coat and settles down on the love seat, letting everyone say hello and chat with Mingi. Hongjoong settles next to Seonghwa, and Seonghwa does everything he can to ignore the uptick in his heart rate when Hongjoong’s thigh presses against his.

“How’s he doing?” Seonghwa asks, focusing on the kids chatting animatedly.

Hongjoong sucks in a breath through his teeth. “He’s got his ups and downs. I think this one is worse than before, though.”

Seonghwa purses his lips and darts a glance at Hongjoong. “Do they know when he’ll be back?”

Hongjoong nods, his gaze still at the guys crowding around a computer. “Soon. Management told me about it today. Honestly, I think he’s better here at the dorms than away, but what do I know?” He turns to look at Seonghwa. “Everything okay with San?”

Seonghwa swallows hard. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Hongjoong!” Wooyoung screams, his voice making Seonghwa grit his teeth. “Come here and tell Mingi-yah about how you fell on your ass at dance practice to make him feel good about himself.”

“Duty calls,” Hongjoong says, resting a hand on Seonghwa’s thigh. He gives it a squeeze, and lowers his voice, “Wait up for me?”

Seonghwa’s mouth goes dry. “Uh, sure.”

Wooyoung exclaims again, and then Hongjoong yells something back at him about respecting his elders to which everyone laughs at. Seonghwa watches Hongjoong smile and explains the dance practice faux pas with a big smile, and a lot of dramatics. His gaze connects with Seonghwa when everyone laughs at something Yeosang says, and Seonghwa’s heart skips several times over. Seonghwa has known no one as beautiful as Kim Hoongjoong in his entire life.

In this space, between the mortar and the drywall surrounding them, Seonghwa feels safe. This space that’s become his home is the place Seonghwa has only ever felt he can be himself. And the way Hongjoong looks at him, like he’s made of the type of brilliance Seonghwa _knows_ Hongjoong’s made of... well, he can’t even care too much about what the rest of the world thinks.

Because maybe San is right. Maybe everything will be okay.

*

There’s endless promotion for the album. A ton of photoshoots, a ton of promotional recordings, a ton of television shows in rooms that are too sterile and too quiet. It’s strange to be promoting an album when the world is on fire, but Seonghwa’s veins still pump with excitement, and vibrate with anticipation.

One night Seonghwa stays at the practice space after everyone’s done to practice a dance for Atiny during his next vLive. He stares at his reflection in the mirror before closing his eyes and giving into the song, spinning around and around.

It’s not a song that has an assigned choreo but Seonghwa goes with it, flowing with the melodic sound of the woman’s voice even though he doesn’t know what she’s saying. It’s all in English, but there’s a euphoric feeling Seonghwa gets when he listens to it, a little heady rush and a prickle on his skin that makes his arms break out in goosebumps.

But Seonghwa does what he always does when he dances—he gives into the rhythm, not worrying about step count or about being perfect. He lets his legs carry him, his feet make the moves stepping forward.

When the song finishes, he’s out of breath, his muscles aching. Seonghwa bends over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He doesn’t move for a moment until he hears the soft noise of hands clapping together and looks up into the mirror.

Hongjoong is leaning against the back wall, a small smile on his face. He’s wearing another outfit from his practice clothes which means he showered here. He pushes himself off and walks closer to Seonghwa. “Is that something you created yourself?” 

Seonghwa nods. “Yeah, kinda. I thought I’d show Atiny or something.”

Hongjoong continues to draw closer, his eyes maintaining focus on Seonghwa’s. There’s a heat in his eyes Seonghwa’s never seen before, a sparkle of interest that makes Seonghwa’s mouth grow dry.

When they’re standing next to each other, Hongjoong lifts an eyebrow. “Would you teach it to me?” 

Seonghwa blinks, feeling a little wrong-footed. “It’s not fleshed out.”

Hongjoong ducks his head. “Right, I didn’t think about that.”

“I didn’t mean—Yes. I’d like to do that,” Seonghwa says around the vibration in his throat. “Maybe later this week?”

Hongjoong’s smile could war the brightness of the sun. “Sounds great. Everyone’s already gone home so we could go together.”

“Sure,” Seonghwa says. He gathers his stuff and they make their way out into the cool night. Seonghwa shoves his hands into his puffy jacket and stars up at the night sky, speckled with a bunch of stars. The moon is bright tonight, and Hongjoong hums, drawing Seonghwa’s attention to him.

“What?” Seonghwa asks. They’re both wearing their dust masks, making it hard for Seonghwa to see Hongjoong’s face.

“It’s quiet,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa doesn’t understand what he means. The noise of Seoul is all around them, car horns, and music, and the low rumble of tires on the highway. Nothing about this moment is quiet. Hongjoong turns to Seonghwa and says, “No one will be around for a bit.”

“Well, they sent for the driver—” Seonghwa manages but then Hongjoong is standing on his tiptoes, cupping Seonghwa’s face and leaning in, their mouths connecting. The fabric barrier is awkward, but Seonghwa can feel the press of Hongjoong’s lips against his, and it sends a thrum of want through Seonghwa’s entire body right down to his toes.

Hongjoong pulls back, his eyes wide, his hands still on Seonghwa’s face. A small shrill of noise fills the air and it takes a couple of seconds for Seonghwa to realize that it’s coming from Hongjoong. Just as Hongjoong is pulling away, Seonghwa grabs at his wrists and shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Please, don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

Seonghwa pulls at the strap of his mask off his ear and reaching to Hongjoong’s and doing the same. “Don’t apologize,” Seonghwa says, cupping Hongjoong’s face. “Will you do it again?”

Hongjoong’s lips are parted, and his shoulders are rising and dropping. He nods, and stands and leans in closer, connecting their lips for real this time. It’s beyond anything Seonghwa could ever imagine, the wet press of Hongjoong’s lips against him a brand. Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, and he grips harder onto Hongjoong’s wrist, his other hand wrapping around Hongjoong’s throat. 

He can hear Hongjoong’s whimper through his fingertips, and Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, opens his mouth in invitation. Hongjoong accepts it, swiping his tongue inside of Seonghwa’s mouth, tentatively sliding the tip of his tongue over Seongwha’s.

And yeah, Seonghwa’s done for. He doesn’t know when this car is coming, but he’s in for it now, and he doesn’t care if anyone catches them. Seonghwa has thrown caution to the wind before, multiple times but never to this extent.

There’s so much to lose. Especially if they get caught.

Seonghwa pulls back and gasps for air. He’s dizzy, the night sky swirling above them. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, his hands all over Seonghwa’s face. “Did I—” 

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa says, gripping for Hongjoong and pulling him close. Hongjoong’s arms wrap around Seonghwa’s waist and Seonghwa melts into the embrace. “I just didn’t want anyone to see.”

Hongjoong tilts his head, his lips brushing over Seonghwa’s ear. “Can we continue later?” and Seonghwa feels like he’s going to die.

The car pulls up right then and they pull out of their embrace, putting their masks back on. It would at least cover up their kiss bitten lips, and the goofy smile on Seongwha’s face.

Hongjoong slides into the car right next to Seonghwa, and when they’re sitting at a stop light, Hongjoong’s hand reaches for Seonghwa’s.

Seonghwa takes it with ease.

*

Everyone’s in their rooms when they get back to the dorm. Seonghwa wonders if Hongjoong’s made this happen, as he follows Hongjoong into their room. He sets his stuff down onto the floor, and takes off his face mask, finding Hongjoong on the opposite side, his hands shoved into his sweatpants.

They haven’t taken their jackets off, and Seonghwa’s blood is pumping as Hongjoong takes off his mask too, his lips parted, eyes half-lidded. Seonghwa inhales a sharp breath, and makes work on his jacket, setting it carefully onto the top of the dresser. He doesn’t turn around, too scared he’d say something stupid, and then Hongjoong’s behind him, his arms wrapping around Seonghwa’s waist. He presses his face between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades, his voice muffled when he speaks.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and Seonghwa huffs a laugh, a little hysterical. He sets a palm over Hongjoong’s arm.

“Yes,” Seonghwa manages. He shivers when Hongjoong places a kiss between his shoulders. 

“Is this okay?” Hongjoong asks, trailing more kisses, light, barely there touches up Seonghwa’s shirt to his neck. Seonghwa tilts his head to the ceiling and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yes,” he says, his voice choked.

Hongjoong hums happily, resting a hand on Seonghwa’s hip and spinning him around. He crowds into his space, his eyes searching over Seonghwa’s face. “Do you know how long I’ve wished for this?” he asks. Seonghwa shakes his head, and Hongjoong responds with a smile that holds a bit of sadness. “Too long.”

“Re-really?” Seonghwa whispers. “I thought—I mean, I didn’t think, I guess, but I didn’t want to ruin anything. Because the group, what if they didn’t think it was...”

Seonghwa’s voice trails off, but the word _right_ sits heavy in the air.

“Yeosang knows,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa’s eyebrows fly up, his mouth parting in shock. “He’s told no one, though. But he figured it out early on.”

“San knows too,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong laughs, pulling Seonghwa close until their bodies are flush.

“I guess we’re not good at being inconspicuous, huh?” Hongjoong says. He reaches up and traces the back of his knuckles over Seonghwa’s chin, his eyes following their trail. “I worried you hadn’t felt the same.”

Seonghwa raises a trembling hand up to Hongjoong’s cheek, and cups the side of his face. His silky hair tickles Seonghwa’s fingertips. “I’ve felt this for a long time.”

Hongjoong ducks his head and looks up at Seonghwa through his pretty, pretty, eyelashes. His smile is shy when he asks, “How long?”

Seonghwa tilts Hongjoong’s head up and leans down to give him a kiss. Hongjoong groans low in his throat, and it sends a shiver up Seonghwa’s spine. “From the beginning,” Seonghwa whispers against Hongjoong’s lips.

“Me too,” Hongjoong whispers back, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and pulling him down again.

Their lips connect, a clash of teeth and lips. Seonghwa’s knees turn weak when Hongjoong opens his mouth to sweep the tip of his tongue over the seam of Seonghwa’s mouth. Seonghwa opens up for Hongjoong, lets him in and the euphoric dizziness has Seonghwa’s blood pumping and his heart slamming in his ribs. He never wants this to stop, he doesn’t care if he can’t breathe, he wants to soak in everything about Hongjoong he can.

Hongjoong’s hand slips under Seonghwa’s shirt, the flat of his palm resting on Seonghwa’s quivering stomach. Seonghwa’s brutally aware that he’s hard in his pants, and he jerks his hips forward when Hongjoong’s hand travels up further and brushes his nipple.

Hongjoong hums happily, ripping his mouth away and tucking his face into Seonghwa’s neck. “Fuck,” he whispers, and that makes Seonghwa’s entire body shiver. It’s rare that Hongjoong curses, and when he says it with his voice gravelly and raw, Seonghwa grips onto his hips harder, pulling him closer. Hongjoong’s legs slot between Seonghwa’s, his thigh putting pressure right where Seonghwa’s body wants it most.

“Oh god,” Seonghwa whispers, his breathing shaky and rapid. Hongjoong kisses along the column of Seongwha’s throat, sometimes trading off his lips for teeth, and Songhwa will not last at all, making an embarrassing mess of himself if Hongjoong doesn’t stop. “Hold on, hold on.”

He gently nudges Hongjoong away, eyebrows creasing together in confusion. Seonghwa brushes back Hongjoong’s hair and says, “Need a breather.”

Realization colors Hongjoong’s face. “Oh. Right.” He laces Seonghwa’s fingers with his and guides him to the bottom bunk sliding in and opening his arms in invitation. “C’mere.”

They fit together perfectly, their bodies coming together like two puzzle pieces. Seonghwa closes his eyes and gives into Hongjoong’s touch, letting his own hands roam over soft fabric and under Hongjoong’s shirt to touch soft, soft, skin, and firm muscle. He teases along the top of Hongjoong’s pants, and Hongjoong’s exhales a shivery breath, hot against Seonghwa’s chin.

“I’ve never…” Seonghwa says, his voice shaky. He hates how uncertain he sounds.

“Um, same,” Hongjoong says. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

“What if—What if I do?” Seonghwa asks, and Hongjoong lets out a breathless laugh.

“As long as you let me return the favor,” Hongjoong says, so quiet Seonghwa barely hears him. Seonghwa can only nod. His ears are buzzing like cicadas in the summer. His entire body is feverish like he’s under stage lights, and with a trembling hand he somehow unbuttons Honjoong’s pants, dragging down the zipper.

A low whine escapes Hongjoong’s mouth when Seonghwa dips his hand lower. His entire body is thrumming, his hand unsure. But then the familiar sensation fills Seonghwa’s hand, and he grips onto it, waiting to see how Hongjoong reacts.

Hongjoong arches his back and bites his wrist, his eyes twisted shut. He breathes hard through his nose, and Seonghwa waits, a quake of nerves rippling through his veins.

“If you need me to stop…” he says, and Hongjoong thrashes his head back and forth, emboldening Seonghwa to continue. He kisses Hongjoong’s temple and murmurs, “Lift your shirt.”

Hongjoong scrambles with his free hand, scrunching his T-shirt up to his arm pits. Seonghwa pushed down on one side of Hongjoong’s jeans, and Hongjoong does the same to the other side. Seonghwa kisses Hongjoong’s cheek, tracing a trail down to the side of his mouth.

“God, you’re perfect,” Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong turns his head so their mouths brush together. “You are.”

Seonghwa chuckles, leaning in to place a small kiss to Hongjoong’s mouth. He picks up the pace, watching the way Hongjoong’s tiny moans ghost over his mouth, the way Hongjoong arches his back when Seonghwa’s thumb brushes over the head of Hongjoong’s dick.

Hongjoong captures his bottom lip between his teeth, a small whine escaping on an exhale. It’s the brightest, most beautiful thing Seonghwa has ever seen, and he’s dizzy from it, whirling like a complicated dance move.

Seonghwa tries different things, speeding up and making Hongjoong shiver and panting and slowing down making him whine and grip onto Seonghwa’s bicep harder.

Seonghwa guesses when Hongjoong is close, grips onto the back of Seonghwa’s neck and murmurs, “Please, kiss me, I need you to kiss me now—”

Seonghwa doesn’t have to be told twice, smashes their mouths together and feels the pulsing sensation in his fingers and the warmth spreading over his fingertips. He swallows all of Hongjoong’s moans, one by one, ripping down Seonghwa’s spine, vibrating through his body.

“Oh god,” Hongjoong whispers. “Oh god. Give me a second. I have to get feeling back in my body again.”

Seonghwa chuckles lowly, brushing his nose over Hongjoong’s hair. It smells of berries. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Sticky,” Hongjoong says with a groan, lifting his shoulders up and removing his T-shirt. He cleans himself and Seonghwa’s hand off carefully, tossing the dirty shirt off into a corner.

Seonghwa’s nose scrunches in distaste. “Seriously?”

Hongjoong tucks an arm under his head, a sleepy smile on his face. He closes his eyes and sighs. “You think that’s the first time?”

This time Seonghwa lets out a groan. “Oh my god.”

Hongjoong curls up against Seonghwa’s side, and boldly cups Seonghwa’s erection. It takes a moment for Seonghwa to realize that the sharp inhale is his own, and his eyes roll up into his head at Hongjoong’s canines scraping along his chin.

“Oh,” Seonghwa groans when Hongjoong slips his hand into his sweatpants.

“Now it’s my turn,” Hongjoong murmurs, and Seonghwa lets go.

*

Mornings never felt as wonderful to Seonghwa as it does waking up to Hongjoong in his arms. The weight of Hongjoong’s hand on his chest, the warm breath tickling his neck, and the small snores coming from Hongjoong have become a part of Seonghwa’s days. His nights include feverish kissing, smoldering dark eyes, and a shit ton of orgasms. 

“We should tell them today,” Hongjoong says one morning when Seonghwa walks into their bedroom after a shower, and Hongjoong pushes him onto the bed and cages his half naked body with Hongjoong’s arms. 

Seonghwa licks his dry lips and tries to calm down the rattling pulse in his throat. His voice is a hoarse whisper when he speaks. “What do you want to tell them?”

Hongjoong flops to the side, resting his head in his hand. He reaches up and traces a fingertip over Seonghwa’s face, his eyes following its path. He stops at Seonghwa’s lips, and Seonghwa gives it a soft kiss. 

“I want them to understand what you mean to me. And how you inspire me.”

Seonghwa blinks. “I inspire you?”

Hongjoong smiles. “Every day. It’s a simple thing to find when you’re in love with the person.” 

A heady rush crashes over Seonghwa, a wave of delight, and elation that has him shivering. Honjoong continues to hold his gaze, a goofy smile tilting at the side of his mouth. Seonghwa’s known no one who’s been as brilliant with words, so bold and beautiful. He reaches up and cups the back of Hongjoong’s neck, pulling him down for a slow, sweet kiss. 

The kissing turns into a pretty heavy make-out session, in which they end up getting each other off before scrambling to get ready for the day to head to their interview. Right before Hongjoong opens the bedroom door to leave, his cheeks a little flushed and lips kiss bitten, Seonghwa stops him. 

“I want them to see we’re in love too,” Seonghwa whispers, the words strange in his mouth, and sounding stranger as they pass through his lips. 

Hongjoong smiles, reaches for Seonghwa’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Then let’s do it.” 

They end up telling the guys later that night, with everyone stretched out around them in the living room. No one says anything bad, everyone’s elated, and the whoops coming from Wooyoung might wake up the neighbors. Yunho stands up and does a little dance, Yeosang informs everyone that he knew the entire time, and San does the same which makes Yeosang pout a little. 

Jungho speaks up and says, “What do you think Mingi’s gonna say?” 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Hongjoong says, reaching for his phone to call him. 

After they make sure Mingi has secured himself in his room, with all the doors closed and with the big advisory that he put some kind of music on, Seonghwa grips onto Hongjoong’s hand and closes his eyes. He waits for Hongjoong to tell their last member the news. It’s followed by a long bit of silence. 

Seonghwa opens his eyes and looks to Hongjoong, squeezing his hand. His brain thinks, _oh no, oh god no no no_ when Mingi bursts out and says: 

“AH, MAN I HATE THAT I’M THE LAST TO FIND THIS OUT!” 

And everyone breaks out in a roar of laughter. Wooyoung takes the phone and begins screaming into it with San, and the rest of the guys fill in, but Seonghwa doesn’t hear what any of them say. Because right now he’s hypnotised by Hongjoong’s smile, and when he reaches up to brush back a bit of his silvery hair, Hongjoong’s smile grows and Seonghwa knows one thing for certain about Kim Hongjoong. 

He’s the one. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr @ buildyourwalls


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